Too Late
by Necesisstas
Summary: A mother and a brother ponder on a green eyed boy. Kind of a drabble.


One of the boys was always sadder.

Frigga noticed this, in a way only a mother could. And though she tried her best to make him happier, (happiest?) her love was not what he seeked for. It was something he had by right ever since he knew himself.

Oh, the tricks he played to hear his father's boisterous laugh; but Odin wouldn't stir unless he broke the next column with one swift hit, and Loki never sought power in his muscles. So Odin never stirred. He knew how to love yet was ignorant when it came to showing it.

She tried to ease his loneliness with a gift: Magic. And it worked, for a while at least. But there was something in his eyes ( green, bright and masked) Frigga could only vaguely decipher as yearning. A void perhaps. And even magic hadn't been quite enough to fill that.

But Loki was her younger son. The one that was smaller, more fragile, a shadow of a boy he could have been.

The one that needed her more.

Frigga would try to fill that void until the end of her days. Because she was his mother. Perhaps not by birth right, but by the right of her heart.

_Then am I not your mother?  
You're not._

* * *

None of the Avengers would understand.

In fact they couldn't wait to get their hands on him only to rip him apart. Piece by piece.

Thor couldn't blame them. This homicidal figure of madness was the only Loki they ever knew. They didn't know that this was not the real Loki. And he couldn't describe them the man this body of hatred used to be( Thor would never believe this was what he had always been). All he could do was fight alongside them so he could take his brother back before any of them could lay a hand on him.

He would be punished in the way he was worthy of. In his home.

Their return had been eventful. Odin had called him stupidly forgiving as he had held his mothers sobbing shoulders and told his father that Loki must live. Rage was eventually followed by submission. Eventually. Thor had wondered if Odin could make it until the very last moment if he were to have Loki killed. He wondered if Odin could _watch. _

"He is Loki Laufeyson! The son of our mortal enemy and a villain to the Nine Realms!"

"He is my brother and your son."

"Not anymore; not after this."

"For the past millenium, and the next!"

"Sentiment."

You didn't see a giant demi-god flinch everyday. (This had been the only word that had ever ruined him.)

He never visited Loki. He asked his father not to tell him that he had begged for his brother's life. That would only be for the worst; he only needed know of Frigga's tears, one thing he was always granted.

He didn't visit him for a while even after Frigga's death. He had no reason to; not at first. He could do without seeing his wrecked little brother aiming all his hatred towards him. Him, who had done nothing but forgive. But protect. But love.

(Not save. But Loki had let the spear go on his own. Had he really wanted to die at that moment? Fall into abyss? Yes he had. Thor knew him that much to know the truth for once. He thought he could save him with his familiarity. Childish. He was the elder brother wasn't he?

_Loki turn off the Tesseract or I'll destroy it. _

But he was no longer the mischivieous little child to chastise. _There is only war. _And a dagger, Thor thought. But had seen the tiny tear prickling in his brother's eye. Why, Loki? _Why_?)

He had concluded on his own carelessness in his grief, when Loki had fallen. He hadn't understood his brothers loneliness, he was the sole guilty part. But then he saw that he wasn't.

(The God of Wisdom was too proud to admit. His grief was silent.)

Loki had grown in his descent. Thor could see that. He could also see that this futile "ruling-the-earth" obsession wasn't Loki's. It was too careless for him. Too obvious. Too meaningless. Loki wanted what he assumed his birth right. Not a far off short lived planet. He could see the fear. And pain. No, none of the Avengers had understood that.

Because the real Loki had surfaced back, when he finally went to visit him. The young man with too much wit and passion, sitting at the corner of the room, bleeding and in need.

(I wish it was I who you needed brother.)

Could a bond so broken ever be repaired?

_I remember a shadow, living in the shade of your greatness._

* * *

_We could stop this madness, brother! Together!  
...It's too late._

* * *

**I kind of like this, then I kind of don't...It's a little all over the place I guess...hm. **

**Nessie**


End file.
